


I've been digging too deep (I always do)

by beepbedeep



Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: And like, F/F, YEAH SHE WOULD, aftermath of the island, healing n stuff!!!, inspired by someone here writing GREAT leatin fic, they said SHE WOULD WRITE A BOOK, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28976331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beepbedeep/pseuds/beepbedeep
Summary: It’s one of these mornings, before Fatin has even sat all the way up, while Leah pulls on a pair of shorts, that she mentions it,have I told you I’m writing a book? Or something?
Relationships: Fatin Jadmani/Leah Rilke
Comments: 27
Kudos: 218





	I've been digging too deep (I always do)

When it’s all over, Leah writes a book. 

They’re a _mess_ after the island, carrying with them less limbs, less hair, less sanity, and more goat-killing abilities than they arrived with. It’s funny, _getting home from being trapped in a diabolical experiment you would expect to be the center of attention at least for a minute_ , that’s what Fatin whispers to Leah one night as they sit on her front porch, trying to find the same stars they had on island nights from the safety of the porch swing Leah’s had since she was four, but Leah thinks it’s kind of a blessing. Sure, there’s a lot to do, hugging their families, trying to catch up on schoolwork, but by the time Gretchen’s experiment is finally uncovered it’s almost the start of summer and by now they’re well into July, full of long lazy nights spent doing anything and everything they couldn’t do when they were trapped – visiting every fast food drive-in within a five mile radius, spending hours at the mall smelling different kinds of shampoo, catching up on TV they missed - but mostly life goes on around them, leaving the girls alone in the eye of their very own custom made storm. 

Therapy, therapy, therapy, government ordered, parentally requested, personally desired, they all spend hours talking about what happened with whoever is deemed professionally helpful. (First order of business, moving all the girls to the same place for a few months, the therapist-squadron agrees unanimously. Some, like Dot and Shelby, don’t have much of a home to go back to yet, but Fatin’s house has extra rooms, and Martha’s mom rents a place for herself, her daughter, and Toni, with Nora and Rachel staying with their cousins just a ten-minute drive away. Fatin goes back to her house, as does Leah, and they spend enough time with each other to block their parents out) Their parents fuss, and form lawsuits as Gretchen gets out on bail, every newscaster in the country wants to hear their “remarkable” story, but somehow, as Nora observes, _it all feels so far away_. They have one another, that’s all they’ve needed for a long time now, so they hunker down with Shelby’s favorite episodes of Riverdale and Pretty Little Liars, Martha’s popsicles, with breaks to spray each other with the hose in Leah’s yard, or jump in Fatin’s pool if they’re lucky, and help each other with summer-school-math-homework. 

They don’t _process_ the island together, between themselves nothing else really needs to be said, but they hold each other through nightmares and laugh until they can’t get a full breath, and all things considered, it’s a nice summer. (Indoor plumbing really does make things better.)

They’re shell-shocked, all of them, nervous and jumpy and haggard versions of the people they used to be, but there’s something new about them too, something crystallized and unbreakable. Besides, it never matters when they’re together, not when Fatin can make them all cackle in three seconds flat. Slowly, painstakingly, they help one another brush off the dust, getting up from the debris of their last few months, and the beautiful thing is that _none of them are alone_. They might be a little bit messed up, but now they’re also a _little bit psychic_ , at least with each other, _which is kind of a superpower if you think about it, right guys??_

They all have their projects (recommended by therapists who say _try to find old things you enjoyed_ ) Fatin plays the cello, but only when she wants to (usually while Leah’s nearby, watching or reading with the special kind of peace on her face that only hits when Fatin plays her first note), Rachel and Shelby start taking a dance class, Martha starts volunteering at an animal shelter (unrelatedly three of them end up with new pets), and one day, in the midst of all this mundane joy, Leah sits down at her desk (she never works up here anymore, now she does everything in the kitchen with Dot and Toni, or better yet on the floor of Fatin’s bedroom, accompanied by the gentle puff of Fatin’s breath as she concentrates on her textbooks or text _ing_ ) picks up the island-journal Nora gave her (the first of many apologies), flips open her laptop, and starts to write. _How do you think I expected to spend the end of junior year?_

From there, it just _flows_.

The first person she tells is Fatin, who’s been staying over a lot recently – her parents have started fighting, _really_ fighting, so she shows up on the front porch most mornings with or without her little brothers in tow. In any other house full of eight other girls, some of whom sleep other places but at least four who don’t, two elementary schoolers might not be a welcome addition to the mix, but Leah’s mom and the boys get along _weirdly_ well, so more often than not she’ll take them for the day, to the park or zoo or a movie, and when they get back Fatin visibly melts at the sight of their happy faces. (Leah has a complicated relationship with her parents these days, they all do, and the presence of actual children makes everyone a little softer.) 

The nights Fatin stays over she sleeps in Leah’s bed (something Dot complains loudly about exactly once _I actually live here and I get the couch???_ but it’s accompanied by the most teasing wink/smirk combination known to man) arms and legs tangled around each other, just like the island, and with Fatin at her side, Leah sleeps better than she ever has. It’s one of these mornings, before Fatin has even sat all the way up, while Leah pulls on a pair of shorts, that she mentions it, _have I told you I’m writing a book? Or something?_ Fatin’s reaction is immediate, and everything Leah didn’t know she wanted, _SHUT UP you’re writing a book? I fucking knew it!!!_

_You did? How?_ (Leah wouldn’t put it past Fatin to secretly be telepathic) 

_I know you, Rilke. Like, really well. Didn’t know it was gonna happen this soon though._

Leah can’t help but laugh, _You just knew I was going to do it at some point?_

_From the moment I met you, babe. Or like, right after._

_Don’t get too excited, it’s not even good, and nothing’s going to happen with it and-_

_Leah. It’s you, so it’s totally perfect. I’m sure. Tasteful and funny and super intriguing, people aren’t gonna be able to put it down. Besides_ (she pulls Leah down next to her on the bed, throws her legs on top of the other girl’s, and turns so their faces are inches apart) _the world kinda wants to hear from us, if you haven’t noticed._

(Fatin goes to say something else, something about how she won’t say anything to the other girls until Leah is ready, but her words are muffled by Leah arms firmly pulling her back onto the bed. Making out with her girlfriend isn’t an opportunity Fatin ever passes up, so they don’t get downstairs for another half hour and when they finally do, Fatin feels like a cat in the sun, warm and sleek and satisfied, clinging happily to her little bit of secret.) 

(A week later she tells them, in the middle of an after-someone-has-to-testify-in-court-against-Gretchen-we-watch-High-School-Musical night, with Fatin’s head resting on her leg, _hey so I’m working on this writing thing, this book, about us and the island and I won’t do anything with it if any of us are uncomfortable_ , and smiles break out across the group like fireworks. _Leah, that’s amazing. I can’t wait to read it. Did you write about the time Toni and Shelby had sex on a rock instead of feeding us? How soon can we read it??_ )

She gives them all copies the next night, and a few days later when Fatin and Dot are caught in the middle of a very intense pool splash fight Leah wanders into the Jadmani’s giant, gorgeous kitchen and is met by Fatin’s mom, who’s never really home, and she’s wearing _pajamas_ which Leah kind of can’t compute because this is _Fatin’s mom_ , but then she smiles, _Leah I’ve been hoping to talk to you. Fatin showed me what you’ve been working on recently, and I have a few friends who work at publishing houses. I think they’d really like to see it, to hear your story directly from you girls. Would it be ok if I sent it along?_ And Leah can’t stop smiling because she doesn’t want them to be freaks or celebrities, and she’s wanted to be a Real Writer since she was in elementary school, and she doesn’t mind anyone knowing how much she loves her friends. She nods, mutters something like _yesyesthatwouldbeamazingthankyou_ and when Mrs. Jadmani smiles back Leah sees the woman who saw them get off the airplane when they finally made it home, who saw Fatin and burst into tears, who would kill for her daughter and make sure she gets to cello practice after. 

(When Lean writes about their post-island lives all she wants to do is write about Fatin and her cello, the little smile that flickers across her face as the notes fly off of her skin, stream out of her hands, spring from the bow she so masterfully controls. Coming back from experiment-hell means a grace period, even for Fatin’s cello practice, and now she only plays when she wants to, when Leah begs her at night, or when she can’t stop fixating on everything bad. Fatin smiles, pulls her hair back, and when she starts to play Leah thinks she might _leave her body_ because Fatin is just _that good_ and if she could, Leah would swim around in her music, totally immersed in everything Fatin, for her whole life.)

The publishers like it ( _no shit babe!_ ) and Monica, a very nice editor, send edits and suggestions until everyone decides it’s _ready_. And Leah barely manages to like herself most days, but this feels, this feels good. She signs off on the last round of edits early on a Tuesday morning, with the smell of Nora’s chocolate chip cookies drifting up from the kitchen, Ian coming over in an hour, and Fatin’s legs curled firmly around hers, vanilla shampoo mixing with the cookies to form a scent that should be gross, but all Leah feels is _complete_. 

The books sells well, like, really well. Leah is a _published author_ and people _like her book_. There are requests for interviews, for all the girls, but they smile, say _thank you_ , say _not at this time_. They’ve said all they needed to. They’re ok. Shelby and Toni are looking at colleges near each other, Dot and Fatin want to stay in California and everywhere they’re looking just _happens to have a great writing program! You aren’t sick of this yet, riiiight?_ Fatin says it with a smile, but her eyes are serious – Leah’s getting better at reading her girlfriend’s poker face – and her smirk says everything Fatin needs to know. _You’re never getting rid of me._

They make their trips around the country regularly, the girls can’t stay apart for long, and somehow Leah’s life just keeps getting better. Nora is going to Harvard, Rachel to a small school she’s totally in love with in Washington, and Martha to a school near home, because she’s _comfortable where she was planted_. They are all ok. Leah wonders about that some days, how they made it out, mended gashes that seemed permanent, but here they all are, happy and breathing and whole and together.

(In the dearth of interviews, the book is analyzed again and again, on every talk show, every podcast, every newspaper, _what’s different here? Why is this book just so good?_ The answers are different every time, _It’s written by the person who experienced it, this isn’t trauma porn,_ different parts are quoted, _it is so easy to be broken, making yourself whole again? That’s the real challenge._ Leah asks Fatin what she thinks it is one night, when Fatin is almost asleep, face buried in Leah’s neck. She opens her eyes, blearily stares into the distance for a second, and smiles, slow and long, _it’s easy to see how much you love us._


End file.
